“You are not angry with me, d’Artagnan?” he said.
“I!—oh, no! certainly not; of course not. What you do for heroism, I should have done from obstinacy.”
“But you are quite of opinion, are you not, that Heaven will avenge me, d’Artagnan?”
“And I know one or two on earth who will not fail to lend a helping hand,” said the captain.
203
Three Guests Astonished to Find Themselves at Supper Together
The carriage arrived at the outside of the gate of the Bastille. A soldier on guard stopped it, but d’Artagnan had only to utter a single word to procure admittance, and the carriage passed on without further difficulty. Whilst they were proceeding along the covered way which led to the courtyard of the governor’s residence, d’Artagnan, whose lynx eyes saw everything, even through the walls, suddenly cried out, “What is that out yonder?”
“Well,” said Athos, quietly; “what is it?”
“Look yonder, Athos.”
“In the courtyard?”
“Yes, yes; make haste!”
“Well, a carriage; very likely conveying a prisoner like myself.”
“That would be too droll.”
“I do not understand you.”
“Make haste and look again, and look at the man who is just getting out of that carriage.”
At that very moment a second sentinel stopped d’Artagnan, and while the formalities were being gone through, Athos could see at a hundred paces from him the man whom his friend had pointed out to him. He was, in fact, getting out of the carriage at the door of the governor’s house. “Well,” inquired d’Artagnan, “do you see him?”
“Yes; he is a man in a gray suit.”
“What do you say of him?”
“I cannot very well tell; he is, as I have just now told you, a man in a gray suit, who is getting out of a carriage; that is all.”
“Athos, I will wager anything that it is he.”
“He, who?”
“Aramis.”
“Aramis arrested? Impossible!”
“I do not say he is arrested, since we see him alone in his carriage.”
“Well, then, what is he doing here?”
“Oh! he knows Baisemeaux, the governor,” replied the musketeer, slyly; “so we have arrived just in time.”
“What for?”
“In order to see what we can see.”
“I regret this meeting exceedingly. When Aramis sees me, he will be very much annoyed, in the first place, at seeing me, and in the next at being seen.”
“Very well reasoned.”
“Unfortunately, there is no remedy for it; whenever anyone meets another in the Bastille, even if he wished to draw back to avoid him, it would be impossible.”
“Athos, I have an idea; the question is, to spare Aramis the annoyance you were speaking of, is it not?”
“What is to be done?”
“I will tell you; or in order to explain myself in the best possible way, let me relate the affair in my own manner; I will not recommend you to tell a falsehood, for that would be impossible for you to do; but I will tell falsehoods enough for both; it is easy to do that when one is born to the nature and habits of a Gascon.”
Athos smiled. The carriage stopped where the one we have just now pointed out had stopped; namely, at the door of the governor’s house. “It is understood, then?” said d’Artagnan, in a low voice to his friend. Athos consented by a gesture. They ascended the staircase. There will be no occasion for surprise at the facility with which they had entered into the Bastille, if it be remembered that, before passing the first gate, in fact, the most difficult of all, d’Artagnan had announced that he had brought a prisoner of state. At the third gate, on the contrary, that is to say, when he had once fairly entered the prison, he merely said to the sentinel, “To M. Baisemeaux”; and they both passed on. In a few minutes they were in the governor’s dining-room, and the first face which attracted d’Artagnan’s observation was that of Aramis, who was seated side by side with Baisemeaux, awaiting the announcement of a meal whose odor impregnated the whole apartment. If d’Artagnan pretended surprise, Aramis did not pretend at all; he started when he saw his two friends, and his emotion was very apparent. Athos and d’Artagnan, however, complimented him as usual, and Baisemeaux, amazed, completely stupefied by the presence of his three guests, began to perform a few evolutions around them.
“By what lucky accident—”
“We were just going to ask you,” retorted d’Artagnan.
“Are we going to give ourselves up as prisoners?” cried Aramis, with an affection of hilarity.
“Ah! ah!” said d’Artagnan; “it is true the walls smell deucedly like a prison. Monsieur de Baisemeaux, you know you invited me to sup with you the other day.”
“I?” cried Baisemeaux.
“Yes, of course you did, although you now seem so struck with amazement. Don’t you remember it?”
Baisemeaux turned pale and then red, looked at Aramis, who looked at him, and finished by stammering out, “Certainly—I am delighted—but, upon my honor—I have not the slightest—Ah! I have such a wretched memory.”
“Well! I am wrong, I see,” said d’Artagnan, as if he were offended.
“Wrong, what for?”
“Wrong to remember anything about it, it seems.”
Baisemeaux hurried towards him. “Do not stand on ceremony, my dear captain,” he said; “I have the worst memory in the world. I no sooner leave off thinking of my pigeons and their pigeon-house, than I am no better than the rawest recruit.”
“At all events, you remember it now,” said d’Artagnan, boldly.
“Yes, yes,” replied the governor, hesitating; “I think I do remember.”
“It was when you came to the palace to see me; you told me some story or other about your accounts with M. de Louvière and M. de Tremblay.”
“Oh, yes! perfectly.”
“And about M. d’Herblay’s kindness towards you.”
“Ah!” exclaimed Aramis, looking at the unhappy governor full in the face, “and yet you just now said you had no memory, Monsieur de Baisemeaux.”
Baisemeaux interrupted the musketeer in the middle of his
